


In Our Darkest Hour

by oh_kathryn_my_captain



Series: My Captain [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Depression, Gen, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 05:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3315422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_kathryn_my_captain/pseuds/oh_kathryn_my_captain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Void has a devastating effect on the entire crew, but something stirs within the captain which threatens to destroy her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Darkest Hour

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of the episode Night. There are dark themes but I promise there's a happy ending.
> 
> This is part of a series from Voyager's point of view.

There wasn’t a singular moment I could label as when I realized something dark had stirred within my captain. I’ve always told myself I know her the best out of anyone else; that I can tell what she feels and why. I suppose there are some things she can’t even share with her starship.

The Void had that hopeless effect on all of us, including myself. I had never known anything could be so dark. The symptoms of that despair didn’t show through until about a week after we entered the Void, when every dark thought and feeling she had ever pushed aside, came back to haunt every moment. I had no idea what torment she was hiding and facing with such courage until we spent those months in that God-forsaken place.

I suppose I should’ve noticed when she only ate once a day. I should’ve noticed when she spoke not one word to anyone. I should’ve noticed before she withdrew altogether and spent every day in her quarters. I guess I’m not as much of an expert of human nature as I thought myself to be, because damn it all I should’ve known it would come to this and I should have done everything I could to stop what happened to my beloved captain.

* * *

All she ever did was curl into the tightest ball and stare. There was something about this void that made one feel nothing and everything all at once. I was lucky. I could feel my engines working and the unexplainable sensation that we were, in fact, moving at the incredible rate those engines provided the power for. My crew, however, did not have that hope.

I understood, at some level, or at least tried to understand, the agony of feeling like you are not moving forward when in fact you are. They were so used to having the stars as proof of their progress, but that was ripped away without any time to adjust. There was no light for them, no checkpoint, no achievement or celebration for getting from one phenomenon to the next. There was only darkness.

Most others ignored it or at least pretended to for the sake of looking courageous. All eyes avoided windows, going to the mess hall was a last resort and God help you if you had a bridge shift. Kathryn Janeway made no such attempts.

For some reason I have yet to comprehend, she kept her eyes locked on the reminder of what little progress they've made, how futile they’re journey was. She would not allow herself to forget. Her responsibility weighed so heavily on her, she could hardly stand. Her guilt so plagued her mind, she could not think clearly. I dare say she was at the lowest point one could ever reach in their existence — the point at which no one could save her unless she allowed them to. In my observations of humans, this is the most dangerous position to put oneself in.

She slept. At least she allowed herself that necessity. Although I should say she tried, but gave up after many nights of waking up, dripping sweat and screaming. She could not escape the pain she felt, even in her dreams. So she forced herself to keep her eyes glued on that window, unable to face whatever horrors wait for her in the form of nightmares. It worked, once. But the next night, she was already so exhausted from everything that soon, her blinking slowed until she didn’t open her eyes and her breathing became soft and regular.

_Please_ , I begged any deity or power that would listen, _give her peace, if only in her dreams_. But I could do nothing as I watched her thrash herself awake once more.

She had forgotten about weekly reports. It was routine and she should’ve remembered as the captain, but she couldn’t be blamed for whatever darkness was consuming her inside out. By some miracle, she managed to collect herself enough to be presentable to her first officer. They spoke of nothing but business the first week, Chakotay figuring she needed some time just like every other rough spot she hit. If it got any worse, he would always do everything he could to help. He had no idea how desperate her situation was; she wouldn’t allow him to see her weakness. So he left, hesitating for just a moment, leaving me to only watch as my captain slipped further away from me.

It was so dark and she had remained so quiet that it took me a few minutes to realize she was crying. They were those silent tears, the ones that sneak up on you and don’t let up once they appear. Those are the ones that strike the most fear in me. She was crying and obviously in pain but couldn’t bring herself to care enough to sob and allow what little relief she could. That silence she insisted upon, allowed the thoughts, I feared, that would destroy her. She cried herself to sleep, a chaotic sleep that offered no comfort yet again but it was sleep. She was awoken again by her own screaming about 3 hours later and gave up for the rest of the night. For what she did next, I have only the assumption that she was bored of spending 20 hours a day looking at nothing.

She began to read the occasional book. I know how much she loves to read, but it stuck me as odd that she would choose a time such as now to catch up on reading. I suppose it can get exhausting to feel so alone and deserted that one could use the company of books. It was a good choice on her part and always her preferred coping strategy. She was doing alright with the help of books for about a week, but then resorted to other means.

The captain held the complete record of ship’s logs. It was rare she found herself reviewing them but I guess it was too tempting for her to look to the past instead of stay in the present. She started from the beginning, when they set out from Deep Space 9, which quickly moved to logs recorded in the Delta Quadrant. She spent too long, in anyone’s opinion, looking over casualty reports from that fateful day. Then came their first attempt and failure at getting home, Mr. Tuvix whom she killed to save her own crewmen. Skipping New Earth reports altogether, she moved on to the Kazon takeover of Voyager, passing up a chance to get home because she wouldn’t mate with Q, defying her first officer’s council by making a treaty with the Borg, almost killing the entire crew in order to rid the ship of experimenting aliens, and finally the recent incident with Arturis that made her realize just how her selfish decision impacted others. She kept this up for days, sinking back into her hole filled with despair.

I continued to wonder why she would force herself to look back on her mistakes, the only thing it did was make this situation worse. She was intentionally putting herself in a painful position for reasons I could not possibly understand. It was almost as if she had convinced herself that she deserved to feel this excruciating pain, that she should never again be allowed happiness. These dangerous lies were going to kill her and it was too late and beyond my power to save her.

It was the third week of her self-isolation. She took time every day to look at a list of the people who died, keeping a constant reminder of her failures. It must have been 20 minutes she sat there staring, looking over their personnel files, checking their achievements, the goals they never saw accomplished. She had gotten through five files when she stood up and walked away. I had hoped that this signified the end of her self-inflicted suffering, that she was leaving behind those mistakes of hers at last.

She walked up to the wall and leaned against it, taking deep, ragged breaths that gradually became quicker and quicker. Then her jaw clenched and she stood straight up. I thought this was it, she finally accepted her past and she will walk out of this room and get back onto her bridge, stronger than ever. But I was so mistaken.

She punched me. She pounded her fists against the solid metal of the wall. A sudden, painful memory flashing in her mind of the last time she’d intentionally brought herself pain on the icy planet that had become her father and fiancé’s grave.

I could do nothing but watch as red flecks appeared contrasting the light grey of the wall. A single drop ran along the length of her forearm until it ran out of energy and dried on her skin. When she stopped, she sat down, unable to keep her balance and stared, horrified at her shaking, battered hands. Then came the sound, the first sound I had heard from her in days. It was a sob. She was crying, loudly this time, and without even a comforting hand to place on her back, I cried along with her.

* * *

 

“… So not much has changed since last week,” Chakotay concluded.

This was the fourth weekly briefing she had missed, but Chakotay didn’t mind his new duty to take a few minutes and report to her what little there was.

“Is that all?” she asked, stepping out of the shadowy corner she had been in.

Chakotay looked like he was about to say something but paused, looking as if he were studying something. Then a look of overwhelming concern overtook him.

“Kathryn, your arm…”

With a jolt, she remembered the deep, discolored bruises she had given herself two days ago and the marks on her fist that still hadn’t healed. She stepped back into her safe shadow, hoping he would somehow forget what he saw.

He took a few steps forward, telling her that he won’t let go of this.

“Why?”

That was something she hadn’t expected; probably because it wasn’t a question she had thought to ask herself. She did, however, try her best to put what she felt into words.

“I deserve it.”

And that was all she said before the tears began — silent tears like the first time. He drew closer to her, not knowing what to do or say. They were locked in each other’s eyes until Chakotay pulled her forward into his arms as soon as he knew she wouldn’t resist. She was sobbing now, holding nothing back, feeling as safe as she had felt in weeks as he held her.

“We need to get you to sickbay,” he said at last.

“I don’t need a counselor, Chakotay.” She pulled away from him.

“Whatever you say, but you do have some bruises to heal.”

“Alright. Just bring me a dermal regenerator and I’ll be fine.”

Chakotay knew in every molecule of his being that she was lying her ass off but he left to get medical supplies, giving him time to plan out what he should do next. If they had a counselor, he would consider informing them of the situation. But of course, that was not the case. The Doctor was a trusted friend but could hardly qualify as a helpful counselor in cases as sensitive as this. Kathryn has said before how much she trusted Chakotay and how he made her feel at home no matter how many light years away it was. So it appeared that he was on his own.

Returning back to her quarters, Chakotay found her sitting on the couch and began treating her without any resistance, which was a step in the right direction from what I’ve seen. He wasted no time, tending to both arms within minutes leaving time to talk about scars other than the external ones.

“Kathryn, I need you to talk to me.”

She knew he meant well and he was the closest she had gotten to relieving her pain, so she spoke.

“This void has gotten me thinking about many things. It reminds me that all of this is on my shoulders — it’s my fault. I hate myself to a point I can’t begin to describe and I have realized how futile this journey is.”

“To be honest, I don’t know if I can do anything to make this easier on you and I’m not sure if you even want me to try. But I can tell you with the utmost certainty that the only one blaming you for anything is yourself.”

“I’ve been telling myself that for years. It doesn’t make any difference.”

“You’ve lost hope.”

The three simple words caught Kathryn by surprise, perhaps because of how true they were. She stayed silent, allowing Chakotay to continue.

“This void is the visual reminder of how hopeless you feel. So much so, you are becoming part of it, emptying yourself of every happiness. I don’t think this is something I can help you with unless you’re willing to forgive yourself.”

“You might be waiting a long time.”

His chest rose and fell in a silent sigh, showing he realized he could do nothing and felt as helpless as I did.

“I’ll be checking in on you as I see fit. You may need some time, but there is no way in hell I’m going to let you hurt yourself again because no matter what you think, Kathryn, you deserve all the happiness you can get.”

With that, he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts yet again. For a while, she tried to convince herself he was right, that she didn’t deserve all this pain. She knew she was standing in the way of her own healing, but couldn’t grasp the idea of loving herself. She had always found that notion pointless, saying loving oneself didn’t matter and it was selfish to think it did. Maybe Kathryn Janeway had been wrong her whole life. Maybe self-love was the most important kind of love there is. She knew that now. She knew she had to love and forgive herself in order to get on with her life. But knowing something and accepting something are two different things.

Chakotay checked in several times a day, each time finding no traces of discoloration or blood on her. In his mind, she was making progress which is true in a sense. Kathryn had begun to believe that hitting herself would solve nothing and, as Chakotay said, she didn’t deserve it as she previously thought.

He didn’t know it, but Kathryn battled with the thought constantly that pain on the outside would be so much easier and bring so much relief to the pain inside. It would keep her from her dangerous thoughts if only for a while. She came so close to relapsing so many times but her courage and strength always prevailed each time she chose to face herself instead of hurt herself. In fact, it grew easier (at an agonizing pace) to pass Chakotay’s check-ups. The raging battles which poisoned her mind, however, refused to let up.

* * *

 

You must know quite a bit of the rest of this story — how Kathryn was willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of her crew about a month later. It must have seemed like she’d made a miraculous recovery, when in fact it was nothing of the sort. The light of the stars gave her hope again, which of course improved her condition tremendously, but hope has never been known to cure anyone.

She still held resentment towards herself, that would never change. She wasn’t sure she could forgive herself either so you may be wondering if she ever recovered completely. The answer, in honesty, would be no. Kathryn Janeway refused to forget her mistakes and carried that with her the rest of her life. She recovered, however, by the definition of accepting her mistakes as part of herself and facing the past by engaging the future with a ferocity some would describe as mad. I, knowing my captain as I do, describe it as courage.


End file.
